


Tomorrow Means Nothing

by Aria_Masterson1153



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: And Kylo is coming into his sass, Ben likes pancakes, F/M, Redeemed Ben Solo, Rey's sarcasm meter is off the charts, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-13
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2018-09-24 01:16:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9693443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aria_Masterson1153/pseuds/Aria_Masterson1153
Summary: "But how can I be 'calm!' Of course I know who you are, I just don't understand why you're older, why I'm here and not dead, and why you aren't trying to kill me now!" He yelled at her.She hummed in response. "Valid questions, Ben, I'll give you that.""And who-" he ground out between his clenched teeth, "do you think you are, calling me that name?"The smirk returned with a vengeance. "Someone who knows you a lot better than you think."(Or,how Kylo Ren actually got off Starkiller Base alive.)





	1. Starkiller Base

**Author's Note:**

> _Darkness finds, I listen,_   
>  _To every little thing she has to say,_   
>  _And when I'm all but found,_   
>  _It's darkness that'll lead my way._
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> **Picture Perfect- Tyler Hilton**

All he could see, and feel, was blood around him. The warm, sticky fluid that was slowly sucking his soul out of his body. He wasn't sure if the blood was all his, or a mixture of the traitor's as well. If it was all his, he was definitely in trouble. He was already having difficulty keeping himself awake, fighting back against the darkness that was usually more comforting than anything.

  
He looked down to his body, the sheen of blood reflected off of the snow surrounding him. The blood flow had reached the extent where he could not even distinguish the primary laceration. He snickered bitterly to himself; it seemed that his failures would never end. The Jakku scavenger seemed a lot more trouble than what she was worth; his failures all stemmed from her in one way or another.

  
It was nearly ironic, he thought. The master of the Knights of Ren; one of the strongest force users in the galaxy, taken down by some outer-rim scavenger that was at the comprehension level of a youngling. He hated her.

  
He hated the scavenger with all of his being.

  
That was all he had now; his emotions were the only thing that hadn’t yet left the crumbling starkiller base. His connection to the force was weakened, not fueled by the hatred scorching a path through his torso. He was dependent on no one, as enforced by Snoke, and his training.

  
_"Remember ,"_ Snoke had said to him during his training, _"you are alone. You will always be alone, my apprentice. Your triumphs are your own, as are your failures. You are rewarded and punished as a result of your own actions, so hold yourself accountable to them."_

  
So, he guessed his death would be his own, too.

  
Lowering his propped head off of the snow-covered boulder, he assessed his injuries; they were far beyond his admittedly pitiful medical skills. Inwardly he chastised himself for not fighting harder against the scavenger, for being far too cocky in his knight training to actually learn first aid skills. He never did seem to have the patience for anything that did not directly lead to the death of an enemy.

  
The scavenger wormed her way back into his thoughts. How did she end up overpowering him? Sure he was injured, he could figure out that much for himself. But he’d trained with his knights in far worse condition, and won, for that matter.

  
Then again, near the end, he sensed the darkness around her, willing her through the final attack. He knew the strength she drew from the dark side to finally overpower him. He smirked to himself on his little island, a fracture of Starkiller Base that would most likely be his grave. Maybe the wannabe jedi wasn’t as allied with light as she claimed to be? He smiled at his train of thought. If he got off this base, he would definitely have fun further pushing her towards the dark side.

  
Glancing around at his crumbling surroundings, he felt a calming wave pass over him, making him feel weightless in the cold snow. Was this it then? He thought miserably. The master of the Knights of Ren, defeated by a scavenger, and left to die. Force, he was nearly happy that he wouldn’t have to face Snoke’s unforgiving wrath. This would definitely be a failure that would spike his temper.

  
The self-hatred of his failures began to swirl around him in suffocating knots, as it always had. Yet, he was too far gone to notice that it did not have the nearly electrical accompaniment of the dark side.

  
_Maybe it's better I die alone on this base, because I'm not sure if I would live anyway if I went back to the First Order Base_ , he thought to himself.

  
"Ah I know that look," a voice said behind him. "Feeling a bit self-deprecating, Ben?"

  
He- he knew that voice...but how-?

  
"Scavenger," he seethed, furious that she had found him in such a compromising position, unable to even turn himself to face her.

  
She tutted, and walked into his line of vision. "Jedi."

  
"What? You're no Jedi." He spat at her, wondering if this was all a figment of his imagination. He knew he saw her get off the base with that traitor.

  
"And you're no Sith. What a pair," she muttered sarcastically as she rolled her eyes.

  
Eyes that seemed to have...slight wrinkles underneath. Not the youthful, flushed complexion she had only hours earlier.

  
She looked his age.

  
How?

  
He trained his dark eyes on her face as it moved closer down towards him. His eyes pinched with distrust, and his whole body was tensed, itching for a fight that he knew his levels of exhaustion could not handle.

  
If he could fight, she would be screwed, he could guarantee it. If he was at full strength, without a blaster wound to his side, she wouldn't have made it past the forest.

  
But this...this was not the girl he'd lost to. She was older, with a grace that the clumsy scavenger had not yet achieved.

  


  
"Figured it out yet Ben? Or should I give you a few more minutes while you bleed out?" She muttered with false sincerity. She reached to grab his shoulders to begin dragging him away from his designated death bed.  


  
With extreme effort, he reached for her wrists with as much strength as he could manage. With the feeling of her smooth skin under his fingertips, at least he knew that she wasn't a figment of his deranged imagination.

  
"Who are you?" He whispered, feeling the breath whooshing out of his lungs.

  
She fixed him with an incredulous stare. "Did I not come at the right time? I thought..." She looked around, comparing the scene around her to the one in her memories. Satisfied with what she saw, she turned back to him and rolled her eyes. "Right, so you're still about as stupid as I thought then."

  


  
He let out a startled splutter, ready to snap back at her. She must have seen, and sensed the animosity in his expression, as she backed up a bit.

  
"Alllriiggghhht," she drew out. "It seems you're not ready for human interaction right now, so we'll talk later, okay?" She gave a little wave.

  
Raising her hand, he recognized her move immediately.

  
"Rey, no-!"

  
But before he could finish his exclamation, Rey had swiped her hand through the air and everything went black.


	2. II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _All the lonely people,_   
>  _Where do they all come from._   
>  _All the lonely people,_   
>  _Where do they all belong?_
> 
> **Eleanor Rigby- The Beatles**

He woke up in a warm, uncomfortable bed. He sleepily shifted to get more comfortable, but the bright, hot flashes of pain ripping across his side prevented him from moving too much. His hands curled into fists in the blanket as he awaited the jab to the skull that usually accompanied Snoke’s presence in his mind. Kylo’s dark eyes slowly opened after a few seconds, confused at his nearly peaceful wake-up. 

A nearly peaceful wake-up call was worse than his usual nearly random summons in the middle of the night; his Supreme Leader was as adamant on mental strength as he was physical. Snoke had not let him wake up on his own since his first week at the First Order Base, in an attempt to ease him into the cruel training; as if there was a way to do such a thing. 

Which meant...Snoke wasn't here. 

He leaped out of the bed, realizing that he was most likely taken hostage. He was hoping for pirates, because the thought of seeing Leia Organa and the rebellion again was turning his stomach. Especially after...

_No,_ he thought to himself, shaking the thought out of his head. That man was no father to him, he didn't deserve another second in his thoughts. 

He turned his thoughts to the cramped room around him, and the hard bed that his legs were dangling off of. He guessed that with the size of these quarters, his captor was either much smaller than him, or too poor to afford larger accommodations. He smirked to himself. Either way, he could handle an opponent under those conditions. Readying himself for an inevitable fight, he raised his arms behind his shoulders, stretching his stiff muscles. 

He let out an uncontrollable soft groan, his eyes still scanning the area for some form of familiarity. It was a ship, he knew that much at least. He recognized before he opened his eyes the uncomfortable stiffness of a ship bed. 

Distantly, he heard clanging in the adjacent room, most likely where his captor was. Again, his eyes flicked over the room, this time incredulously. 

There were no guards. 

How stupid could they be? 

He pulled up his shirt to reveal a partially scabbed blaster wound over his ribs. Running his finger lightly over the partially healed wound, he felt the slimy residue of a bacta patch. His lips pulled down in a frown. Why was the wound treated at all? Would it not make more sense to keep him weakened with an injury rather than at half-strength with increased mobility? He shook his head. The stupidity of it all screamed pirates. With that thought, he couldn't deny the wave of relief that settled in his stomach. 

Looking back down at the wound, he quickly pulled down his tunic, and wrinkled his nose in disgust. The thing looked worse healing than it did when it was inflicted.

A tumultuous roll made its way through his stomach. No matter how much battle-time he'd seen, he'd never gotten over the viscous, red fluid that accompanied every battle. 

Fighting his urge to slam the door open and turn the cabin into a slaughterhouse, he settled himself into the bed, and opened his mind to the force. It crackled around him, his desperation and pre-battle excitement bending the force to his will. The stirrings of a plan began to form in his mind, and he smirked at the malicious whisperings of the dark side, guiding him in his decision on how the fools would die. 

Satisfied with his plan, he slowly pushed himself off the bed, leaning heavily on his good side. His normally sturdy muscle base shook under the effort of holding his body up. His lips turned down. He must've been out longer than he thought, if his body was failing under such simple movement. He stopped abruptly. What if he was poisoned? What if he was meant to be still asleep, which was why the room was unguarded? 

If that was the case, his previous plan needed an amendment. He needed to focus more on stealth, as they wouldn't be expecting him awake. 

He attempted to continue his path to the door, when his arm slipped out beneath him, weakened by the strain of movement. He couldn't help the frustrated growl that escaped his lips. He promptly punched his injured side, a knee-jerk reaction to his failure. He had probably cost himself the entire plan over something as weak as frustration. He stood quietly at the side of the door, wallowing in his self-pity as he waited for it to open, to land a surprise attack on his captors. He closed his eyes to focus his senses to his hearing, his lips pursed in concentration.

The clanging in the other room intensified, and he huffed out a breath. What the fuck were they doing in there anyways? Making a bomb? 

"Okay, okay!" A feminine voice yelled. "I get it, you're up! The whole system probably gets it, so just calm down for like two seconds while I finish the food!" The voice shouted in an exasperated tone, with the accompanied banging, presumably coming from the kitchen. 

He knew that voice...the scavenger? Why...and how, did she manage to capture him? 

He could hear her still murmuring in the kitchen. He could only make out partial sentences, because she was speaking so quietly. He guessed that if her temper wasn't flared, he wouldn't hear her at all. 

"Force...so demanding...kriffing child...-" 

He ripped open the door, personally offended, ignoring the painful pull of his muscles. How _dare_ she. 

"Hey!" He shouted back, marching down the hallway, ignoring the way his legs shook on each step. "No one said you had to play the hero and save me, I was perfectly fine on my own!" 

He wasn't though, and this he knew perfectly well. 

And it was at that moment she poked her head into the hallway, eyebrows raising as his hulking form stomped towards her. 

She gave him a warning look, with her eyebrows raised even further. "Fine? Yeah, that's rich," she scoffed. "You were as good as dead, there was no way you were getting off that base alive." She pause for a moment, grasping her chin between her forefinger and thumb. "Though, if this is your version of a thank you, I'll take it."

"It's not," he huffed. "Especially since I don't know who exactly I'm supposed to be thanking." 

"This again?" She huffed, turning back into the kitchen. 

"Well, you never answered me the first time." And it wasn't so much about the answer to his question, but what he _felt_ accompanying the answer. His intuition was one of his greatest gifts after all, it helped identify his enemies before he had to resort to the force to destroy them. 

She tilted her head, and looked him up and down. "I don't take you for a fool Ben," she said with a mocking smirk. "Do you think you could find it in your cold heart to spare me the same effort?" 

Now he was getting frustrated, he could feel his teeth grind with the effort to not shout. "But how can I be 'calm!' Of course I know who you are, I just don't understand why you're older, why I'm here and not dead, and why you aren't trying to kill me now!" He yelled at her. 

She hummed in response. "Valid questions, Ben, I'll give you that." 

"And who-" he ground out, "do you think you are, calling me that name?" How did she know it anyway? 

The smirk returned with a vengeance. "Someone who knows you a lot better than you think."


	3. III

To say he was confused would be a vast understatement.

Looking at his expression, she sighed. "Look Ben, I'm not here to hurt you, quite the opposite actually. I'm here to get you back to full health, and that's it. I promise." She looked at him sincerely. "But I can't tell you why I'm older, or why I was there. Just know that I'm on your side right now." She fixed him with a pointed glare. "Which means no late-night assassination attempts, okay?"

He frowned; she did know him better than he thought. "How am I supposed to trust that?" He questioned cautiously. 

She raised her shoulders in defeat. "I know you won't fully trust me until it's on your terms, so we'll wait until that happens." She huffed. "In the meantime; well, just use your intuition, it rarely fails you." 

With energy he didn't even know he had, he shot out of the bed and gripped her by the throat. It must not have been as strong a grip as he thought, as she was still inhaling breath, though they were smaller gasps.

"How do you know about that?" He asked in a low, deadly voice, the one set aside for his prisoner 'interrogations.' 

"Ben, I told you, I know you very well-"

" _How?_ "

"Ben I can't tell-"

"Nope," he shook his head angrily. "Not good enough. I want answers, now." He blindly reached for his saber, forgetting that he was changed into a light grey tunic that was definitely not his uniform. 

Suddenly a thought struck his mind. "You stripped me naked?" 

The display of emotions playing across Rey's face would have been humorous in any other situation. This one, not so much. 

"Oh for the love of the force-" She practically growled at him. "Yes Ben, I stripped you naked. To assess the injuries under your clothes. That you were dying from." She glanced over at him with an incredulous stare. "You really can be dense sometimes." 

"Sounds like you know from experience," he hedged, trying to push her memories, to get her to open up somehow. 

"Nice try Ben, but remember," she started. "If I know you as well as I claim to, I should also know that you can be about as subtle as a bullet."

Strangely, he rolled his eyes. If his Knights were to ever speak to him in that way, it would surely result in death. 

He released his now weakened grip on her, and she smiled victoriously. 

And then smashed the little truce they were having to pieces. "Aww Ben, did we have a moment?" She said as she clutched her heart over-dramatically. 

However, he couldn't respond, or do much else for that matter, as his vision swam with darkness, and not the darkness he was accustomed to, either. It was the darkness that had brought him here, wherever 'here' was. 

His arm sluggishly trailed off her shoulder, and her face shuttered with panic. "What's wrong Ben?" 

As he lost control of his body, he could feel himself fall back into the warmth of the sheets. As he struggled to keep his eyes open, he could distantly hear her voice shouting his name, but he could not force out a reply to her. 

\-----//-----

When he came to, again, he actually knew where he was. He looked around the cramped cabin, and shifted in the bed that was decidedly _not_ made for any man at 1.95 standard units. Though he was feeling much better than when he first awoke, his mind was still muddled with confusion. He couldn’t wrap his mind around the scavenger helping him, at any age, really. He knew for a fact that he would not have extended the same kindness, had their roles been reversed.

Which meant he was now indebted to her. _Shit,_ he thought to himself. This was a situation he definitely did not need. But, as he was a man of honour, of loyalty, he was resolved to his debt.

However…she didn’t need to know that _yet._

Rolling himself off the hard bed with a huff, he strained his abdominal muscles in an attempt to keep his body as straight as possible; he didn’t need to re-open any partially healed wounds. He wanted this weird truce over as soon as possible so he could return to what he knew; that the scavenger was his enemy. He didn’t consider her an ally right now, but to be completely honest, he didn’t consider her an enemy either. He didn’t really know what to make of it. Kylo’s world was saturated in black and white; he was unprepared for this distinctly gray intrusion.

He pushed the door open slowly, performing his usual scan of the room, looking for locations of possible weapons, and enemies. Or in his case, his ‘not-enemy’ scavenger?

He growled. This was becoming frustratingly confusing, and he didn’t like it one bit. Kylo rarely performed well when given a parameter to operate within. Which is why Snoke never gave one. His brutality and lack of mercy were awarded without lack of consideration for any possible ramifications, because simply, there were none.

“There’s nearly smoke coming out of your ears, Ben,” the scavenger laughed to herself.  “Taking the old brain out for a walk?”

Interrupted in his scan, he glanced back to the scavenger, with a blank expression. It occurred to him later that he didn’t react to being called by his discarded name.

Smirking at his blank expression, she turned away into the small kitchen. Under her breath he heard her mutter: “force knows it hasn’t been used in a while.”

He ground his jaw furiously, and stomped in the kitchen after her, without regard for his healing injuries. “You think you’re really clever, don’t you?” He sarcastically muttered.

She glanced up at him over her cup of caf, eyebrows raised slightly. “I do, actually,” she responded with a cheeky grin.

“Well stop,” he muttered viciously. “Or,” he continued, “at least attempt to keep them to yourself.”

She pondered this, eyes raised to the ceiling in thought. “Hmm, how about no.” She said as she took in his shocked expression. “Knowing the strength of your intuition, which I do,” she smirked back at him, “you’ll be able to know my thoughts anyways, which makes it kind of pointless to begin with.” She cocked her head to the side and regarded him. “Besides,” she continued, “your facial expressions are just too much fun to stop.”

He’d had just about enough. “Listen, I don’t know how you know me, or where it was you came from.” He paused. “But you’re playing a very dangerous game, and if you’re half as smart as you seem to think you are, I’d suggest you stop. Before I lose my temper.”

She laughed shortly as she gracefully raised herself of the counter.  She softly patted his shoulder as she brushed by him. “Oh please Ben, your scare tactics won’t work on me.”

As he watched her walk over to the caf machine, he furiously muttered: “that’s a dangerous gamble to make, scavenger.”

She turned around with an amused smile. “’Scavenger.’ Haven’t heard that one in a while,” she murmured pensively. “Caf?” She questioned while gesturing towards the filled cup beside her.

He walked past her towards the caf, his admittedly never-failing weakness. A cup of caf was one of the only indulgences he allowed himself, more of necessity than anything. He took a sip, readying himself to spit it out in disgust. Instead…

He was surprised. Pleasantly. Strong, and rich, just like he normally took it. Any caf not made by him more often than not resembled bantha water.

But this cup was just as how he made it. A soft, pleased sound escaped his mouth. It had been too long since he’d had a perfect cup of caf. He realized too late that he was still in the scavenger’s presence. He glanced over to her to see her smiling over the rim of her mug. She knew that he wasn’t going to acknowledge that she’d made it perfectly. The little smile was her only indication of recognition.

“Is there anything to eat?” He grumpily mumbled as he took another sip.

Rey gently placed her mug on the counter and walked over to the stove. “I was getting to that, grumpy,” she said as she laughed.

In response, Ben lowered his head to the counter, to rest on top of his linked arms. He stared at her banging around pots and pans until she was satisfied with the set-up in the cramped kitchen. He was oddly comfortable, with the silence between them not quite stifling as he processed his own thoughts. She glanced back at him, shooting him a smile. It was evident that she was comfortable in his presence, he just didn’t understand why. He was revered for his intimidation tactics, and yet here she was, the ‘non-scavenger’ that made his caf perfectly and took care of him when he was at his weakest.

He didn’t understand it.

And he didn’t like being indebted to her, either.

“How are your injuries healing, Ben?” she asked over her shoulder while whisking a bowl.

“Fine,” he responded, staring at the soft waves in her hair that weren’t there in his time. He wondered if they had come with age, or if she had done them herself. “And I told you to stop calling me that.”

“That’s good, I have a couple more bacta patches we can use,” she said, completely ignoring the second part of his statement.

“Why are you doing this?” he asked quietly, still overwhelmingly confused by the whole situation.

She took a moment to ponder this. She gently placed the bowl down and walked towards the countertop. She leaned over the table on her elbows, and shifted her eyes to meet his. In them, he saw compassion, sadness, and pity. He could feel them just as clearly as he could see them in her eyes.

“Not everyone deserves to die, Ben.”

He quickly averted his eyes, feeling shame and guilt overcome him when he realized that he disagreed with her. He shouldn’t have made it off of that crumbling planet. It wasn’t true. He deserved to die.

He watched in his peripheral vision as her hands came towards him. Unsure of her intentions, he stopped her hands, shocked at his own restraint because her wrists weren’t crushed.

He heard her sigh, and felt her hands wrap around his own. The rough warmth of them speaking of her battle experience; yet they were soft in their attack, disarming every single defense he had. In a nearly out of body experience, he sucked in a breath full of relief, as he returned the gentle, reassuring squeeze she had given him. Their hands were intertwined, and the moment radiated a quiet intimacy that was as new as it was comforting.

He looked up into her eyes and saw as they danced with mischief as she smiled down at their intertwined hands. He felt nearly overwhelmed at the sensations invading his senses.

He felt a distinct… rightness, a fulfillment in some long-forgotten part of him that he no longer believed to exist. And looking into her eyes, he knew that she felt it too, and for some strange reason, he was at ease.

…Until he wasn’t.

Reality came crashing back to him like an ice cold ‘fresher, and he ripped his hands out of her embrace. The moment was broken for her as well, as her face shuttered at the loss of contact.

“What did you do to me?” He whispered menacingly as he stepped towards her, eyes rapidly scanning the room for a make-shift weapon.

There was a moment of incredulous silence from Rey, and then her face twisted as she laughed bitterly.

“For one second-“ she began but cut herself off, instead looking at him dully. “I did nothing Ben,” she muttered, and he could feel the resounding truth in her tone, but still doubted her, for some reason.

She passed by him, beginning to pace the room, roughly running her hand through her hair, ruining the smooth wave that he was entranced by. “This isn’t easy for me either, okay?” She ranted as she paced by him. “I save your life, only to receive your distrust and anger as a reward.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but she waved her hand through the air, and he had the sense to not continue his train of thought. Instead he looked on, bewildered as she began her fourth tour of the room.

“No, never mind, I didn’t want a reward for saving your life. But I also don’t deserve this, okay?” She fumed as she angrily plopped into the chair he previously inhabited.

“But you also can’t blame me for-“

“For force sake!” She screamed, shooting out of the chair to walk right up to him, her proximity already working its charms on his defenses. “Enough of the victim playing!” She began to shake her head rapidly, loosening the tears from her eyes. He watched in grim fascination as it carved a path down her smooth cheek. He subconsciously reached out to thumb the tear away, when Rey stepped away from his outstretched hand.

“I just- I just can’t do this right now,” she spoke in a voice thick with emotion, as she rushed past him into the sleeping quarters. He heard a door slam a few seconds later, and felt something in him drop simultaneously.

He slowly sat back down at the counter, and took a sip of his now cold caf. He wondered if the cold caf was responsible for the uncomfortable churning of his stomach.

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Just want to put something out there. Yes, I know the first chapter is all over the place. **It is intentional.** I would like to think that looking inside Kylo's mind would be extremely chaotic, as he is so driven by his emotions. Extrapolating that thought, I would think that emotions themselves would dictate his internal monologue; even having the ability to change his direction of thought. Also, the guy is like minutes away from death, I would say that would lead to many frantic thoughts. Anyways, just wanted to get that out in the open! :)


End file.
